


Not With a Bang But a Whimper

by Lyrstzha



Category: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
Genre: First Time, M/M, Polyamory Negotiations, Yuletide, polyamorous Harmony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-06
Updated: 2009-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-05 15:51:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrstzha/pseuds/Lyrstzha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes destiny doesn't work out the way you expect. Sometimes love doesn't either. After the events of the movie, Harry has trouble dealing with the fact that Harmony's poly. But he has surprisingly less trouble dealing with the fact that he wants to know if his best friend still tastes of coffee and pastry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not With a Bang But a Whimper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [apiphile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apiphile/gifts).



_Okay, so I'm total crap as a narrator. I started off the last story by saying that Harmony and I changed the world last Christmas, but that a thing like that couldn't last. And then I just left that hanging out there. Like the first part of a sentence with a...what, conjugation? Conjunction? Conju-some-shit-or-other, I think. Whatever. Like a part of a sentence with one of those things that doesn't link up to anything. So you're just waiting, all bated breath, and there's nothing. And what's bated breath, anyway? Who says shit like that anymore?_

_Right, anyway. So you probably wondered what I meant by starting the story of what happened last Christmas with that. You were probably thinking to yourself, what the hell? Sorry about that. I got distracted, okay? If Perry hadn't come along and clapped his hand over my mouth like the pushy bastard he can be sometimes, I'd have tied up a few more loose ends. But fuck it, I'll just tell you the bits I left out and we'll call it a sequel or deleted scenes or something, and let bygones be bygones so we can all go home happy._

_So, I'll just pick things up right around where I left them off. There we were, Perry and I working together and Harmony and I seeing each other. I figured things were looking very, very up. And then, after a few weeks of doing the whole couple thing, Harmony told me that we needed to talk. I figured I'd done something stupid like forgetting an anniversary, but no. Instead she sat me down and confessed that she was this thing called 'polyamorous'. I thought she was telling me she had some kind of disease, and I got all upset and held her hand and promised that I'd love her no matter what. And then she finally explained what she meant, and...yeah, I didn't take that so well. See Harry; see Harry's psychotic break. Break, Harry, break! Just read the goddamned scene and don't laugh, okay? Because Perry's been teaching me some of that martial arts stuff he knows, and I will fuck your shit up._

 

"You've gotta be kidding me." Harry looked at Harmony with a sort of glazed, hollow, disbelieving expression. It was the face of a man who has just been told that not only can he not have his cake and eat it too, but also he's going to have his stomach pumped to confiscate the cake he's already managed to eat. "So, you're this poly-armor-all thing that means you're going to cheat on me all the time, and I'm supposed to be okay with that as a valid lifestyle choice?"

Harmony smacked him in the shoulder hard enough to sting just a little. "It's not cheating, asshole. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Cheaters make promises they only pretend to keep. Being polyamorous isn't like that at all, because—"

"Oh, so you _didn't_ tell me you wouldn't sleep with my best friend in high school and then go right ahead and do it anyway? Wow, I've got a hell of an imagination." Harry tapped his temple with his middle finger, possibly illustrating his point or possibly flipping his brain off; even he wasn't sure which.

Harmony rolled her eyes and threw her hands up. "We were _kids_, Harry. That was _years_ ago. Let it go, already!"

"Well, I would, but now you're telling me—and correct me if I'm wrong here—that you'd sleep with my best friend all over again."

"Your best friend's _gay_, Harry. I don't think that's going to be an issue."

Harry choked and spluttered before he could manage, "Oh my god, that's the only reason it's not going to be an issue?! I've got more Chutneys to look forward to, and you're just telling me this _now_, when we practically live together?"

Harmony crossed her arms, but the small part of Harry that wasn't busy freaking out suspected that it was less stern body language and more trying to keep herself from whacking him upside the head. She finally said, in an approximation of a reasonable tone, "We don't practically live together; you're crashing at my place. And _you_ never told _me_ you were monogamous, so why should I have mentioned that I'm not?"

"Okay, no, I didn't tell you that. Because that's the _standard_, Harmony. That's what normal people expect."

"_Normal_ people?!" Harmony's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Seriously? You still have nine fingers left, Harry. Don't tempt me."

But Harry, being Harry, couldn't help himself. "Why not? Apparently you find everybody _else_ irresistibly tempting."

She didn't go for one of his remaining fingers, but Harry ducked out the door just in time to avoid the possibility of gaining a shiny new concussion as Harmony snatched up a plate and pitched it at his head. He could still hear her yelling her anger after him two blocks down the street, until traffic and distance drowned her out.

Three hours, half a dozen drinks, and a cab ride later, Harry knocked on Perry's front door and was relieved when it opened, even though a sleep-touseled Perry eyed him suspiciously and frowned.

Another man might have said something about the late hour or asked what was wrong. Perry, being Perry, just sighed long-sufferingly and asked, "What have you done now, dipshit?" But he moved aside to let Harry in as he spoke, so it didn't carry the sting it might have.

"Why does everything always have to be my fault?" Harry would not have described his tone as whining, but he privately suspected that it was.

Perry led the way to the couch without even asking if Harry needed a place to crash for the night. "I ask myself that question every morning when I see you across the office, Harry," he said, digging through the storage drawer of his coffee table and producing a blanket, which he tossed at Harry. "But I've come to the considered conclusion that it's because you're a moron."

"Yeah, well, bite me," Harry snapped back, wishing he had a better retort handy, but the alcohol was making him just a bit fuzzy around the edges.

"Not even if you were a two for one special with Christian Bale. I've told you before: you're not my type."

Harry just grunted and stared out of the living room window at the annoyingly lovely moonlit night outside. He could see out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't look up when Perry shook his head and headed off to make puttering sounds in the kitchen.

After a solid ten minutes of brooding silence on Harry's part, Perry poked his head back into the room and offered in an uncomfortably awkward voice, "Look, Harry, if you're not happy, don't let things go on like this."

Harry made a small, frustrated noise. "But she's _the_ girl, you know? It's like destiny or some shit. How can it _not_ work?"

Perry snorted derisively. "Destiny's for romance novels and teenaged girls named Courtney. I'm just saying, you shouldn't be miserable for anybody."

"Harmony's not _anybody_." Harry sighed and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. After a moment, he looked up and tilted his head thoughtfully. "But that's surprisingly sweet of you, actually."

"Shut up," Perry grumbled and stepped back into the kitchen and out of sight.

"So you think I deserve better?" Harry called after him.

"I just don't like to see dumb animals suffering as a general rule, that's all," Perry yelled back from the kitchen over the sound of running water.

"That's all? Because it sounded to me like you were a little bit concerned about my emotional well-being there."

Perry came back, steaming mug in hand. He set it down on a coaster in front of Harry with a solid _thunk_ that somehow conveyed annoyance perfectly. "I'd say 'don't be an idiot, Harry'," he snarked, "but that seems like pretty futile advice for you."

Harry wrapped his hands gratefully around the mug's heat and took a careful sip of the warm milk inside. "Yeah, yeah. Bitch all you want to. You know you care. You don't give a shot of warm milk to every guy who shows up your doorstep, do you?"

Perry suddenly grinned wide and wickedly. "Actually...," he drawled, trailing off suggestively.

"Gah!" Harry raised a hand defensively. "Too much information!"

Perry snickered for a moment before he continued more seriously, "But look, if you're going to invade my house in the middle of the night half drunk and oozing melodrama from every pore, I'd like to skip your delusions about my soft and cuddly nature and get to the part where you tell me what the hell is wrong this time so I can get back to bed."

Harry hesitated before he asked, "Have you heard of this polyamorous thing?" The word even tasted wrong on his tongue.

"Sure. You haven't?"

"No," Harry ground out between his teeth. "I haven't. Did you know Harmony was into that?"

Perry shrugged. "Not specifically, but it explains a lot now that I think about it. I take it you're not thrilled about this side of her."

Harry glared incredulously at Perry's calmness. "Of course I'm thrilled," he said, his tone steeped to the root in sarcasm. "What could be better than finding out that my dream girl's idea of us living happily ever after together includes having her own fucking harem on the side? Yeah, that's the stuff dreams are made of."

Perry sighed again. "Did you actually discuss this with her like an adult, Harry? Did you sit down and get her to explain to you exactly what she wants and what being poly means to her? Did you—and I promise I will make you sorry if you ever tell anyone I used these words—talk about your feelings?"

"Well." Harry cleared his throat. "Not exactly. But I think she made her position pretty clear."

"You think." Perry rolled his eyes. "Try not to do that. The little hamster inside your head will fall off his wheel if you're not careful." He shook his head. "Just talk to her. And here's a hint: try not to sound so judgmental while you do. If she's the only girl for you, you'd be pretty stupid not to find some way to work this out."

"But you think I _am_ pretty stupid," Harry pointed out querulously.

Perry flashed him a hint of lopsided grin before turning to the hallway that led to his room. "Of course you are, idiot. That's why you needed me to tell you what a smart person would do."

"I'll do it because I want to, not because you told me to," Harry called out petulantly at Perry's retreating back.

"Moron!" Perry yelled from down the hallway, but it had the cheery and habitual tone of 'good night'.

"Bitch!" Harry yelled back, also without any bite to it.

 

_Damn, sorry again. I started off on Harmony, and then I skipped over to the bit with Perry without telling you that I sometimes stay the night over at his place when Harmony's mad at me. And you were probably thinking, what's up with this warm milk crap, anyway? Well, screw you. It's a comfort thing that settles my nerves, just like a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. I don't care if you think it's kiddie, it makes me feel better. Perry used to make it for me when I was taking shelter over at his place; he said if he let me do it myself I'd probably set his kitchen on fire._

_But anyway, you see what I mean about not taking it that well about Harmony. Except now I've gone and opened up another loose end, and you're probably thinking that I'm going to do the dick move again here and just forget to tell you what happened when I talked to Harmony and all the stuff that followed after that. Shit, burn you once, and you people never forget. I'm getting there, okay? I'm not even up to the sabotage and sex parts yet._

_I just figured I'd cut in and save us some repeats of the same painful conversation—and by _us_, I mean _me_. Let's just say there were a bunch more shouting matches in there I'm not exactly proud of, but we're talking about _Harmony_ here. _The_ girl. Perry was right; you don't just give up on _the_ girl that easily. No, you tell her how selfish she is and you yell at her over and over until she throws you out of her house. And then you drink most of a happy hour and go back to your best friend's place and throw up on his imported Italian shoes while he threatens to shoot you. Let's skip looking at that bit, too, come to think of it. Here, let's pick up a couple of mornings after that. Puke-free, I promise._

 

"Good morning, sunshine. It's a beautiful day to get some work done and find yourself an apartment. Come on, wake up." Perry poked at Harry's shoulder insistently, but this elicited only a long, drawn-out gurgle. "You can't lay here all day, Harry. It's past noon."

"Hiwill nivur furgackt shlomany," Harry wheezed sloppily from beneath his pillow, swatting blindly at Perry's poking finger.

"I didn't say you'd ever forget Harmony," Perry translated with surprising ease. "But life goes on whether the world ends for you or not. And we've got a case to work on before the lunch hour's over, so get your ass _up_."

Harry slid the pillow over just enough to glare balefully up with one bloodshot and bleary eye. "Case?" he mumbled, in a voice that was thick and seamed with cracks, but recognizable as human.

"Oh, good. You've mastered words of one syllable. It's a start." Perry grabbed the pillow away entirely, ignoring Harry's yelp of protest. "If you aren't upright in the next thirty seconds, I'm not going to let you take point on this one after all."

"Point?" repeated Harry sharply, suddenly feeling much more lucid.

"Don't get too excited, Sherlock. It's a basic cheating husband case."

"But, point?" Harry repeated again.

Perry shrugged nonchalantly. "I might as well find out if you're capable of learning to perform simple tasks," he answered gruffly. "And the first simple task to learn in the PI business is waking up. Take it from me, clients go for the conscious detective every time."

And before Harry even really knew what was happening, he was off the couch, dressed, and sitting beside Perry in the car holding a camera and a schedule.

"The wife says here that at two on a Wednesday he should be at Fox Studios, probably on his lunch break. Well, actually she wrote 'having a nooner with his slut', but I think that's what she meant." Harry pointed at the notation and held it so Perry could see. "Fox Studios? Who is this guy?"

"He's the creator of a new show, _Rosetta Stone_, coming out next fall. The buzz is pretty good, but the pilot doesn't air for another four months. And, of course, this is Fox, so if it's good, it'll probably get canceled after a handful of episodes anyway."

Harry nodded. "But still, I mean, this is one of your Hollywood cases. That's a pretty big fucking deal." Harry made himself add, "Are you sure you want me to take point on _this_ case?"

Perry snorted. "Please, Harry. We're talking about a young, up-and-coming Hollywood type cheating on his wife with one of his actresses. Even you should be able to prove that one. A few times over, probably. And the best part is, we can drive right onto the lot. I've done some consulting work for a couple of their shows, and my pass should get us in. Even you cannot screw this up."

"Yeah, I'm touched by your faith," Harry grumbled back at him sarcastically, trying not to let on that it was actually _true_. No sense in making Perry feel too awkward about being nice, he figured.

And it did all start out very smoothly. Perry's pass got them in without trouble, and a chatty craft services cook helpfully passed on the gossip that their target was having a private lunch with his leading lady in her trailer. Then Perry bemusedly followed Harry's directions to park in a spot with a good view of the door of said trailer.

"So far, this is a good plan, right?" Harry asked him anxiously after they'd been sitting quietly in the parked car for five minutes.

"Could be worse," Perry answered laconically.

Harry decided to take this for praise, and he was just starting to relax when there was a rap on the glass beside his head. He jumped and looked, badly startled to see a holstered gun and radio at eye level.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" the security guard inquired in that particular politely aggressive tone only security guards can manage.

And then Harry lost his mind. Granted, he wasn't at the top of his game lately anyway, and uniforms made him nervous at the best of times. But he really did not plan to throw himself to the side and awkwardly mash his mouth over Perry's.

Perry's mouth was open and looked to be shaping words as Harry descended on it, but instead he gave a muffled cry of surprise, and Harry jammed his tongue right into the space it made. He locked his hands around the sides of Perry's face, stubble scratching his palms, and used the leverage to seal their mouths more firmly together. And then all Harry could think was how Perry tasted of coffee and raspberry-filled doughnut, and how his lips didn't feel at all like they had that first time when Perry kissed him to distract passing cops. The first kiss had been bad, but this one wasn't really. Which isn't to say that it was good, since it was quick and clumsy, and especially since Perry seemed to be momentarily paralyzed with shock and the security guard was ostentatiously clearing his throat outside Harry's window, but still. Not _un_pleasant. Not the foreign and repulsive experience Harry was expecting, because before it had been the unexpected lips of some strange guy, and now it was just Perry, who felt familiar and safe.

But that was as far as Harry's analysis got before Perry's tongue firmly shoved his out and Perry's hands batted his away. "What the hell are you doing, moron?" Perry spluttered, keeping one restraining palm planted in the center of Harry's chest, as if he was worried that Harry might pounce on him again.

"Cover," Harry hissed, trying to be quiet enough not to be overheard by the security guard.

"What are you, crazy? I have a _pass_, Harry." Perry looked down and seemed surprised to see his hand on Harry's chest. He snatched it back and fumbled for his pass to show the guard without looking at Harry again.

"Oh. Right," Harry said weakly, giving the departing guard a small wave. "I knew that."

"Idiot," Perry grumbled, and left it at that, by which Harry could tell that he was a little thrown.

"Sorry," Harry offered meekly after a bit.

"You should be," Perry muttered. "That was a bonehead move, even for you."

"Hey," Harry protested. "You kissed me that other time we needed a cover and you don't see me complaining."

"Is your memory broken, too? You threw a giant fit. And _that_ time was _actually for cover_."

"Well, I thought this was, too!" Off of Perry's head shake, Harry added, "But I may have complained a little. Tell you what: I won't make a big thing of it next time you kiss me if you won't make a big thing of it next time I kiss you."

Perry's eyebrows shot up. "You _are_ insane," he managed, and Harry thought he might have gone on like that for a while, but their target chose that moment to step out of his leading lady's trailer. The case was looking pretty simple for a minute as the man turned back and reached for the woman behind him, but then a guy with a headset ran up out of nowhere waving his arms excitedly and apparently breaking the mood.

"Fuck," breathed Harry feelingly as their target ran off with headset guy looking upset. "If he's shooting for the rest of the day, we'll be out of luck until at least tonight."

"Look on the bright side," Perry reassured him. "That gives us a couple of hours to find you an apartment."

But they didn't. Instead Harry looked sad and moaned about losing his destiny until Perry surrendered to the inevitable and bought a futon for his study ("Just until you patch things up with Harmony," he said, but in a resigned tone that suggested he had more than an inkling that he was losing a study and gaining a roommate.)

 

_And that's how I ended up living with Perry. And also how I mostly-accidentally kissed him, which is kind of important later, but you're not really supposed to know that yet, so just keep it on the back burner for now. Fuck, I foreshadow for crap._

_Anyway, living with Perry was about like you might expect. We settled into a pattern pretty quick. He's a little uptight about neatness, and he would get pissed at me if I left crumbs in the toaster or put my shoes on the furniture or forgot to hang my towels back up. But he got used to having me around anyway, and it was surprisingly good. He knew when to make the warm milk, you know? Which is what's important, if you think about it. If I lifted something from a store and he caught me, he'd chew me out for a solid hour or so, but I could always see the driving edge of concern under the thick layer of anger. And no matter how late he got home from a date, I always got up to let him tell me about it, because I learned early on that Perry likes to bitch about his bad dates right away—actually, the good ones too, really. Oh, and the time we both had food poisoning? (Stay away from Taco Pueblito, by the way. It's not worth the risk.) We both sprawled out on the bathroom rug together and took turns propping each other up to heave._

_You know, I think what we all really want in this life is someone who will be there to hold our head while we puke our guts out. Everything else is gravy. Love kicks the shit out of romance any day._

_Oh, but you probably wanna know what happened with the case. I made this whole big point of showing you how I got to be in charge of my first case, so you're most likely wondering. Well, it wasn't really much. I mean, Perry was right, it was a pretty easy case. We followed the guy later that same night and snapped a couple dozen shots of him snuggled up to some wannabe starlet. It was cool to be in charge of an investigation, but that one wasn't too much of a challenge. It convinced Perry to start letting me take on the occasional case, though, so I'm actually glad that it went so smoothly._

_But that's where things get just a little bit complicated. You'll see what I mean._

 

"What do you mean you've got things to do?" Harry frowned across his desk at Perry. "If this is about seeing that asshole Kevin again, I just want you to know that I was kidding about hitting him in the head with a shovel. Mostly. If you really wanna bring him home, I promise no assault."

Perry's lips twitched like they couldn't decide whether to turn up or down, and they ended up settling on neutral. "This isn't about your misplaced overprotectiveness, Harry. I've got a case to work this afternoon. Keep an eye on the phone and run those background checks, and if I'm not back by five, take a cab home."

"If it's a case," Harry argued, "then why can't I come with you?"

"You just can't, all right? I'm handling this one on my own."

Harry just grunted dubiously at that; he wasn't at all convinced about the absence of unbearably smug guys from this plan.

 

_Okay, hold up a sec. If you're thinking how cute it is that I got all pissy about Perry's date and didn't know I was jealous or some shit, forget it. Because I _did_ know. It's totally expected to be a little jealous when your best friend starts spending time with somebody else; there's nothing necessarily gay about that, right? So I shouldn't have been surprised by how much I didn't like it when Perry actually brought a guy home instead of fucking him somewhere else and ditching. And that Kevin guy _was_ an asshole, smirking at me while he put his hands on Perry like he was gloating and marking his territory or something. Total asshole. Okay, sorry, as you were._

 

Of course Harry followed Perry. After all, if it _was_ a case, Perry might need backup. And if it was more Kevin-related, there might be a shovel-related opportunity. Whatever it was, Harry was sure he was prepared for it.

But he wasn't prepared for Harmony. He was, in fact, so _un_prepared for Harmony that he broke cover and stormed right up to where she and Perry were sitting at a patio café table.

"What the fuck is this?" he demanded loudly enough to get strangers turning around to look.

"You said he wouldn't—" Harmony started at the same time that Perry said, "Do you _ever_ listen to me, Harry? Seriously, _ever_?"

A horrible thought sprang into Harry's brain fully-fledged, and he rounded on Harmony. "Are you trying to get around the gay thing so you can nail another best friend of mine? Because that would be a shitty thing to try, Harmony." He looked back and forth between them, and spoke very slowly and elaborately clearly. "What. The Fuck. Is this?" he asked again.

Perry huffed in exasperation. "I told you, Harry, it's a case. And I'm working on it alone, so go the hell back to the office."

"Oh, fuck it. You know what, it's okay," Harmony sighed. "If Harry wants to work on my case, I'm all right with that. We're adults."

"I wouldn't assume _that_ far," Perry muttered, but he kicked a chair out for Harry. "Okay, Harry. The client says you can stay after all, so sit down and shut up if you want to work on this case."

Harry eyed the chair for a minute, then Harmony, who just looked tired. He dropped into the chair uncertainly. "What case?" he asked.

"One out of two," Perry sighed. But he added, "Harmony landed a good acting gig, Harry. She's a recurring character on a new show..."

"Katarina, the spirited Russian archaeologist with a gambling problem and a fetish for fast cars," Harmony put in.

"...and there's been trouble on the set," Perry finished. "Someone's sabotaging production."

"There's this stupid rumor about a mummy's curse," Harmony said with clear exasperation. "As if we got anywhere near actual mummies. And anyway, why would mummies give a shit about television?"

"Wait." Harry looked between the two of them, a suspicion growing in his mind. "What show is this?"

"_Rosetta Stone_," Harmony replied, just as Perry winced.

"It _is_," Harry declared. "Your case and my case, they're—"

"Don't say it, Harry, " Perry warned. "Don't even think it."

"Connected!" Harry finished triumphantly.

"That shit only happens in the movies, moron. This is what we sane people like to call a 'coincidence'."

"Come on, Perry," Harmony jumped in, surprising Harry with her support. "There could be a connection."

Perry snorted. "Too much of those Johnny Gossamer books, that's all this is. You people need to expand your literary horizons. Tell you what," he added, standing up and dropping a couple of bills on the table. "You two talk about the nonexistent coincidence angle. I've got a dinner date with Kevin," he shot Harry a look, then went on, "and I'll start looking into your case in the morning, Harmony."

And he was off before Harry could really decide whether to go with him or not. Harry turned back to find Harmony looking at him across the table.

"Perry's not so much with the subtle," she observed.

"Not so much," Harry agreed. "He thinks we really need to talk like calm and rational people."

"He's not wrong," Harmony sighed. "But every time you open your mouth these days, Harry, you make me fucking crazy."

They looked at each other awkwardly across the table. "I'm not trying to," Harry offered.

"I know," Harmony said, and her voice had equal measures of steel and weariness in it, like battered armor. "That's part of what makes this so hard. I know you love me, but you also really think that this whole part of me is just _wrong_. And I don't have room in my life for someone who can't respect me."

"I do respect you," Harry insisted. "I do. I just can't understand why...," and he trailed off, not sure how to put it without going back over the fierce and angry ground they'd already covered so many times before.

"No, I get that." Harmony rubbed at her temples. "You don't understand why I'm wired the way I am, and I don't know how to make it comprehensible for you."

And that's when Harry really understood that there was this disconnect between them, like they were two pieces of a puzzle that almost fit except for one awkward corner that wouldn't mesh. "Even if you agree to change for me, you can't be happy my way," he said slowly, working it out aloud.

"No," she answered simply.

"And I can't be happy your way."

"No," she repeated, softer this time.

They both fell silent for a moment, watching each other. Harmony had a sad wistfulness in her eyes, and suddenly Harry wondered how hard it had been for her to _not_ try to change for him. In that instant, seeing her strength clearly, he thought she'd never been more beautiful.

"I'm sorry I was a dick," Harry murmured. "I really do love you. So much that I just couldn't believe..." he ground to a halt, groping for words.

"That there wasn't some way to _make_ us work," Harmony finished for him. "I know."

"But we don't," Harry sighed.

"Not as lovers," Harmony agreed. "But I really do love you too, Harry. It's more important to me that you're a part of my life than what part that is."

Harry pointed at her and nodded. "What you said. I miss you."

"So, friends, family, partners-in-crime?" Harmony offered him a smile that hardly curved her lips, but it did reach her eyes.

"Always," Harry vowed, stumbling to his feet to pull her into a heartfelt hug. And if he still liked the way she felt against him, well, he figured relationships were complicated things. "I fucking hate it when Perry's right," he muttered into Harmony's hair, more to hear her laugh than anything else.

When he got back to the office, Perry took one look at him and asked no questions. Instead he said casually, "Hey, I'm kinda hungry. Let's knock off early and get something to eat."

"I thought you were having dinner with Kevin," Harry replied, making the name sound like a particularly nasty expletive.

Perry shrugged nonchalantly. "I guess I'm just not in the mood."

Harry smiled at him, maybe a little shaky but wide and bright, and Perry looked away and made a show of busying himself collecting his things.

"So, what are you hungry for?" Harry asked him as they walked towards the car.

Perry shrugged again, and said, in an ostentatiously casual tone as if it was nothing, "Oh, something simple. Maybe a grilled cheese and some tomato soup?"

And that was it. That was the moment Harry looked at him and knew that this was love.

 

_Look, maybe you were expecting angst and soul-searching and denial and shit like that. And I could tell you that it was like that, but it wasn't. My whole life nobody ever remembered the little stuff like that about me. Nobody ever payed that much attention. It was like there was this whole way of being there for someone I never realized I'd been missing until I got it._

_Maybe it's the same as those people who've been blind all their lives until they get one of those corneal transplants, and then suddenly there's this whole new side to the world they could never even imagine before._

_Um. That really happens, doesn't it? I'm not just getting that from soap operas or something, am I? Look, never mind. You get the idea. But you're probably thinking, what about Harmony? Just the week before, she was _the_ girl, right? And she was; she still is. I think Harmony is always going to be _the_ girl for me. But I guess I'm not _the_ guy, or maybe this destiny shit is just funny like that. All I know is, the moment I looked her in the eye and admitted that we couldn't make it work, it was like I let go of all that angry, conflicted crap swirling around in my head. Kinda like draining an infection, really._

_But I guess you're probably also wondering about Perry and thinking, well, love is one thing. You can love somebody without wanting to get your hands on their pink bits. Sex is a whole other thing from love. And that's true, obviously. I'd loved Perry the non-pink-bit way for a while. But I guess I'm one of those people who can find someone they love beautiful no matter what. I mean, objectively I understand that Harmony is a looker, but probably actually not the most beautiful woman who ever lived. But that's who she is to me, if you see what I'm saying._

_And this time, I looked at Perry and I just, you know, wanted to see if he still tasted like coffee and pastry. It was that easy. It's not something I imagined ever feeling about a man, but Perry is a whole different ballgame, if you'll excuse the pun. And I had no idea how to bring that kind of thing up gracefully with a guy. I'm not that good at it with a girl, to tell you the truth. So instead I just spent the next few days looking and wondering until I was ready to go out of my mind. Seriously, I almost considered just climbing on his desk and singing "I Want Your Sex". But every time I reached out to touch him, he moved away. And nothing I tried to say would come out right._

_That's why I'm actually really grateful that the maid came home early._

 

"Harry, for the last time, I don't want you committing felonies," Perry murmured from the next bush over. "Have I not been clear on this?"

"It's only a felony if you get caught," Harry whispered back. "And there's nobody home."

"You know even less about the law than you do about grammar," Perry retorted. "You are _not_ breaking into this house. We're sticking with _surveillance_ here, Harry."

"Whatever you say, boss," Harry agreed easily. But then he darted out from the cover of his clump of shrubbery and made a mad dash for the house in front of them, ignoring the urgent hiss of protest from Perry. He dropped to his knees and went to work on one of the doors, not even slightly surprised when Perry loomed up beside him suddenly, looking thunderously pissed but smelling wonderful, in Harry's opinion. Perry might threaten to leave Harry to the consequences of his own stupidity, but Harry had already noticed that Perry never actually _did_.

"You idiot," Perry fumed quietly. "What in the name of full frontal lobotomy do you think you're _doing_?"

"I told you," Harry whispered, not stopping his work on the door, but taking another appreciative whiff of Perry's cologne. "Our cases are connected. I'll bet you anything that after we gave the wife those pictures, she decided to get even by sabotaging the show. It makes perfect sense. She's bound to have some kind of evidence in the house."

"You are not a good barometer of sense, Harry. I still say this is probably a coincidence." But Perry didn't actually grab for the lockpicks.

"Ah ha!" Harry looked up triumphantly, and got a little distracted by looking up from a kneeling position at Perry's face. He had to give himself a mental kick before he remembered to add, "So you admit it _might_ be connected."

Perry glowered down at him and grunted, which did nothing whatsoever to help Harry's focus on the lock. "There is the thinnest, smallest, outside chance," he finally admitted grudgingly. "And if it's true it's all your fault, anyway. This shit never happened to me before you came along."

"Aww, thanks, Perry." Harry shot him a grin. "It's good to know that I'm a life-changing experience for you."

"Shut up and work faster, dipshit," Perry grumbled.

"Got it," Harry crowed quietly, leading the way inside. The dimly lit entry hall they came into ended in an arched entryway into a cavernous kitchen that looked more like it should belong in a restaurant than a house. "Now, where should we start look—"

And he cut off abruptly there as Perry's arm closed around his shoulders and yanked him into a tiny water heater closet that he hadn't even noticed.

"The hell?" Harry whispered, feeling his chest pressed right up against Perry's in the small, warm space and resolutely not saying _thank god_.

"Someone's coming," Perry ghosted against Harry's ear, spreading tickling shivers.

And sure enough, someone definitely was. Footsteps passed right outside the door of their tiny closet, and a voice sang softly in Spanish. There wasn't room for Harry to twist around and look out of the crack of the slightly open door behind him, but he felt reasonably sure they must have run afoul of the maid. He dropped his head to Perry's chest and silently banged his forehead gently against it a few times. After a moment, the murmur of a TV rose from beyond the door.

"Crap," Perry whispered feelingly. "She's got a whole basket of ironing with her. This could take _hours_."

But Harry was busy wondering if Perry realized that his hands had settled on Harry's waist, where the thumbs twitched in a slight caress through the fabric. The air was thick and hot and humid around them, and Harry felt reckless.

"Perry," Harry murmured softly, barely a breath into his ear.

"What?" But Harry could tell that Perry was totally distracted by peering out the crack in the door, his face all shadow and sharp edges of light.

"Perry," Harry repeated, more insistently this time, and just the tiniest bit louder.

"What?" Perry's eyes refocused on Harry's, so close now that the striations of color in his irises were clear, and he simultaneously seemed to realize what he was doing with his hands, because they stilled and pulled away. He was definitely paying attention now, but the expression on his face was stuck somewhere between disbelief and confusion.

"Perry," Harry repeated again, even more firmly and fervently. He put his hands on Perry's face and closed the last few inches between them, registering Perry's shock, but diving in anyway. He wasn't nearly as clumsy as he'd been in their second kiss, and he knew what he was after this time. He kept pressing, all determination and insistence and intentness, nipping gently at Perry's bottom lip and kissing until Perry finally opened for him with a soft sigh that Harry swallowed whole. It wasn't like kissing anyone else; Harry had kissed people who were kissing the person they thought he was or wanted him to be, and he had kissed people who were simply kissing someone who happened to be him. But it felt for all the world like Perry was actually kissing _him_, and Harry had no idea how much he'd wanted someone to do that until just that moment.

"What's going on?" Perry murmured, finally pulling back a little, though Harry darted his tongue out to lick the retreating lips. It was a stupid question, but also not.

"I won't make the obvious closet jokes if you don't," Harry whispered back solemnly.

"But you—" Perry started to object.

Harry cut him off with fingers, leaning up to speak directly into his ear. "Yes. I do. For you, I do. I want..." And he was thinking _more of this, more of you, more of the way things are when we're together, more arguing at home, more working together, more of your skin and your self, just_, "More."

"But," Perry tried again, but Harry had had enough.

Harry pressed forward against Perry as tightly as he could, sliding a leg between his and wriggling a little to be absolutely certain that the hard pressure against his hip was what he thought it was. He had to move quickly to stifle Perry's surprised gasp with his own mouth. And, at least in that moment, Harry really didn't even know or care if he was hard himself; it seemed irrelevant. Harry was desperate to see Perry's bliss and overwhelm his protests so much more than he wanted his own pleasure that he didn't even think of it.

There was no room to drop to his knees, or he might have tried that, inexperience be damned. Instead he kept his mouth on Perry's and scrabbled blindly at his fly. When his hand finally wormed its way past the cloth and closed around Perry's cock, it felt like it fit just right. It pulsed and twitched in his grip, thrumming with blood.

"_Harry_," Perry managed to moan as Harry tried a firm stroke, more a trembling vibration against Harry's lips than a word. But then Harry thrust his tongue inside, chasing the echo of his own name, and if there were more words behind that one, they never broke free.

Encouraged, Harry tried another stroke from root to tip, but the skin gathered and stuttered against his hand instead of sliding wetly. He pulled away from Perry's mouth just long enough to lick his palm and try again. And _there_ it was, the slick glide he'd been aiming for. Perry must have agreed, because he shuddered against Harry and locked urgent hands around the curve of Harry's skull to angle for an even deeper kiss.

Harry wanted to say _This is mine, give it up to me, let me make you come so hard you can't imagine letting anyone else touch you like this ever again_, but he couldn't bring himself to stop licking his way further into Perry's mouth long enough to speak. Instead he worked harder and faster, and twisted his hand on Perry's cock, swiveling against the swell of the head mercilessly until Perry's thighs started to shake a little against his own after only a dozen strokes.

Harry gave a little growl in triumph and finally pulled his head back just slightly until he could see Perry's face clearly, sliding his free hand up from Perry's neck to replace his tongue with his fingers. He felt the gathering tension coiling in the muscles against him, and the look on Perry's face was like the best kind of power and glory Harry had ever imagined. As Perry jerked once sharply against him, warm wetness flooding out over Harry's demanding hand, biting down just the right side of too hard on Harry's fingers, his eyes snapped open and locked tight onto Harry's. For a long dizzy moment, Harry could not breathe or speak or stir or think anything but _yes_.

It was several minutes before either of them even realized that the maid had left the room. When Perry finally tore his eyes from Harry's and noticed, they stumbled out of the tiny closet, still clinging together, and hurried back out through the door they'd come in and toward the safety of Perry's parked car several blocks distant.

"You're not even my type," Perry grumbled querulously when he finally found words again, as if his hand wasn't still resting easily on Harry's back.

Harry gave him a wide, euphoric grin and shook his head. "Too bad," he offered in a tone of patently fake sympathy. "You should have thought of that before you fell in love with me."

Perry returned a raised eyebrow and an arch head tilt. "Who says I'm in love with you?"

"Well." Harry frowned at him just a little anxiously. "You are. Right? Because...you just are."

"I must have been out of my mind." And Perry stepped back, his hands slipping free, and sauntered casually toward the car once more.

Harry blinked after him for a moment, then felt what he was pretty sure was an outstandingly goofy grin split his face. He bounded after Perry, slipping an arm around his shoulders. "Out of your mind when you fell in love with me, you mean," he declared smugly. "Told you so."

Perry couldn't suppress huffed laughter despite himself. "Fuck, you're a brat." But he grinned at Harry fondly, and his eyes were warm on Harry's face. He wound his own arm behind Harry, and slid his palm up and down Harry's back from small to shoulder blade in a slow, gentle sweep.

Harry snorted, chuckling softly. "Please," he said, reaching over to pat Perry's cheek. "Now you're just embarrassing yourself."

 

_So that's what happened this year, for those of you who were wondering. Oh, and the case? Well, actually, I hate to say it, but I was wrong. Our cases weren't connected after all. The whole sabotage thing turned out to be a publicity stunt by the producer, if you can believe it. And Fox really did cancel that show after thirteen episodes, anyway. Perry gloated, of course, but these days I actually find that kind of cute. Go figure, right?_

_And yeah, Perry and I are still good, and I like our chances. A year ago I would never have believed you if you told me things would work out like this. But I guess Destiny's just funny like that, huh? I still say love kicks the shit out of romance, but it's even better to have both._

_Well, thanks for reading. And Perry says to say sorry to you Midwesterners again for saying fuck so much, though honestly I'm not—it's good for you people to stretch your comfort zones a bit—but as long as he's not sorry about the actual fucking, I don't give a damn what you call it._


End file.
